Second Verse, Same As The First
by Medie
Summary: Meredith McKay has never been particularly good with people, neither has John Sheppard, this could end in tears.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Second Verse, Same As The First  
**Author:** medie  
**Rating:** pg13 at present  
**Word count:** 3044 thus far  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing's mine, I just played with the words.  
**Note:** written for kashmir1 for oxoniensis's Free For All who asked for a girl!Rodney/John  
**summary:** Meredith McKay has never been particularly good with people, neither has John Sheppard, this could end in tears.

"Your middle name is _Rodney_?"

Meredith scrunches her nose, looks up from her calculations, and watches the slow grin spread across Major Sheppard's face. "Yes, as a matter of fact, Rodney is my middle name."

He nods. She goes back to her calculations, hoping against all rational thought that he'll take the hint and leave. He doesn't, of course. She knows better than that. A number of things have become abundantly clear over the months they've been in Atlantis. Some she can circumvent, some she can ignore, but there are a stubborn few which she can only live with. John Sheppard's attention span is chief atop that list.

He's bored. They've had no reports from the Wraith in a few days. Power is good. Elizabeth's begun working out deals with Teyla's people and is having the time of her life. It all conspires to mean, for the most part, the team has been on downtime.

Meredith's been enjoying it. No danger to life and limb (always a plus as she's so fond of hers) and she gets to catch up on some much needed research. She's already tried suggesting that the Major do the same. Of course, in his case, she meant work, but, well – that's proving difficult.

Along with a disconcertingly short attention span, Major John Sheppard is deathly allergic to paperwork. She thinks of his office, of its current state, and cringes. The man needs an assistant, or a keeper. His gravity defying hair aside (something she is absolutely convinced violates the laws of physics) she's not particularly interested in being either one.

And yet...

Meredith puts down her pen. "You've been reading my file." She sounds defensive, even to her own ears, and she is. John has the right to read the service fiiles of anyone on the mission, particularly her. He's the de facto military commander. She's on his team. He has the right to know everything about her history.

And isn't that the most horrifying thought of the day?

"Just the good parts," says John. He grabs a stool, sitting across the counter from her and rests his chin on his forearms. When he looks at her, there's something calculating in his gaze. It's like he's trying to decipher her component parts, sort the ins and the outs of her, and she hates it.

It makes her uncomfortable and it takes effort not to squirm or look away.

Lifting her chin, Meredith stares back, hoping for a placid expression. She knows, however, it's more likely that she looks constipated. She's always been a terrible liar.

After a moment, he raises his eyebrows briefly and smiles. It's an 'aw, shucks, who me?' sort of expression. She wonders how many women have fallen for that look. Too many, she decides with an inward harumph. She's never understood women who fall for the sort of man sitting before her. She's never found anything attractive or desirable about the charming rogue. While the rest of her acquaintances – Meredith's never had much use for 'girlfriends' – were falling all over them, she's been quite happy to go on ignored.

Sitting here, she's quite sure it's the smartest thing she ever did. John Sheppard's living proof that her hypothesis was quite sound.

He tips his head, staring at her again and she realizes the moment is stretching out. "The good parts?" The question stammers its way out of her and Meredith instantly regrets it. She's never been particularly good at this and Sheppard? Sheppard is nothing but. All that practice after all.

Yes, it's a catty thought, but it's also _true_. Not to mention somewhat depressing. This isn't a level playing field, she's hopelessly out-gunned and she wants to run. Her legs tense, eager to take flight and rush from the room.

"Uh huh. Like the part where you've got a guy's name." There's laughter in his voice. She quells the urge to kick him beneath the table, reminding herself Elizabeth wouldn't like it. Even if he does _deserve_ it. Which he does. A lot. "You've got to admit, McKay, it is pretty damn good."

Meredith pinches the bridge of her nose, reminding herself that this _is_ a better assignment than Russia. Really. It is. Disastrous start aside, Atlantis is everything she might have hoped for and then some. It's just -- it isn't _fair_. This isn't. Atlantis is supposed to be _her_ chance. She's never had the upper hand, really, not in anything but her field. Not even then if the SGC and Sam Carter is involved.

It's not fair, but she won't say that. Whatever else has happened, she still has her pride.

"I fail to see what the issue of my name has to do with anything. Particularly not anything regarding my capabilities and how they relate to this mission." Which, she was quite sure, far exceeded the Major's.

"Of course not," says Sheppard. "This may come as a surprise, Doctor, but not everything has to do with the job."

This time, she doesn't stop the snort. "And I know this may come as a surprise to you, _Major_, but some of us? We find actual enjoyment and satisfaction in our careers." While his file is, as of that moment, off limits - officially, at least, she can 'rectify' that later – to her, Meredith has done her homework.

Stargate Command is, if nothing else, shockingly efficient in its distribution of gossip. A skill that many transferred personnel have brought with them. She knows just enough about John Sheppard to be sure she isn't sure she wants to know the rest.

Tapping her stylus against the counter top, she scowls at him. "Work. Not the sealed records of our colleagues."

He smiles, it's lazy and a touch mocking. "Reviewing those records _is_ work. I need to know about the people under my command."

It's patronizing as hell and sets her teeth on edge. The urge to kick him is bordering on the level of nearly irresistible. She hopes that Elizabeth can forgive her impending lack of judgment. Although, it's not as if Sheppard actually _is_ her superior.

"Well, there's your problem," she bites out. "I'm not. If you hadn't noticed, Major, I have a rather large number of scientists under _my_ command." As the senior scientist on this expedition, she actually does. Her people outnumber his considerably, even if half of them despise her, and that counts for something. Not much, considering the aforementioned hate, but something.

Meredith is fully aware of how they view her. She might not be particularly interested in their comments, but she's certainly heard them.

"As long as you're on my team," says Sheppard, "you're under my command." He looks oddly stubborn about it and she shouldn't be excited by that. She _shouldn't_. "We should probably work on making that clearer. I wouldn't want anything 'unfortunate' happening out there. Not like we can pick up a new you at Geeks 'R' Us."

It's a joke, but it's not meant to be funny. She's made him angry. The conversation is sliding out of her control, but Meredith doesn't care at the moment. She's done this before. She's had this conversation before and she's really fucking tired of it. Riding the bitter contrariness rises up and she blurts, "For as long as that lasts at any rate."

"I beg your pardon?" He's sitting up straight now, staring at her with an expression of disbelief. "You want off the team?" He seems truly perplexed, astonished really, and Meredith almost regrets her comment, actually starts to doubt the certainty of her belief. It never works. She always ends up shuffled off, out of the way, with her notes and her theories.

The eternal problem child.

She's tempted to admit it, to say so, but that temptation dies quickly. About as long as it takes for Sheppard to make the wrong connection and then she truly does. His face shuts down and Meredith's stomach sinks with it. Oh god. "You think Elizabeth is going to pull me."

"No," says Meredith, feeling bleak. "She wouldn't." She clutches her stylus tighter, desperate to try and regain the ground she's losing by the second without any idea of just how to do so. She should probably tell him the truth. It's what people would do in this situation, she's sure of it. She should say something emotionally revealing, tell him the truth about herself, fill in the bare bones of what her service record states. All the transfers, the complaints, not to mention the sudden transfer to the other side of the planet.

She's surprised, though, he hasn't figured that one out for himself. They're both children of the Cold War era. If she knows what kind of security risk it was to ship her to the _Russians_ with everything she knows about the US military, then Major Sheppard certainly ought to.

Bitterness aside, she does want to tell him the truth. He's not a part of the melodrama that's become her life, he doesn't deserve that look in his eyes.

It isn't what she says. The best Meredith can come up with is, "You've proven yourself. The inexperience -- It doesn't matter."

"You seem to think it does," says Sheppard.

"I thought it might." Meredith shrugs. It's not precisely the truth. She had her doubts about John Sheppard from the moment Carson nearly blew the man to hell. Even more when she actually saw him (and that hair) and more still when Sumner died.

She still thinks she's justified about that. As capable as he's turning out to be, she's still surprised to discover there's a brain beneath that hair.

And how _does_ it stand up like that? Super glue?

"I was -- " she clears her throat, closing her eyes to choke out, "I made a mistake and if you know anything about me, Major, you should know that is not an admission I make very often. Ever, really. Take it for what it's worth and leave it there."

She's not sure what's more surprising. The fact that she actually said it or the fact that he does.

When Meredith opens her eyes, Sheppard is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

-

Meredith holds her breath for three days after that. Not literally, of course, just the figurative walking-on-eggshells one does after a major faux pas.

Ill-suited to such concerns, it's the longest three days of her life. The first few hours crawl by like years as she waits for the news to arrive. When it doesn't, she suspects he's taking the day to think it over, find a way to make the decision gracefully. It isn't as if he can just ship her to Russia, therefore it must be handled delicately.

Which, she then decides, means he's discussing it with Elizabeth. Meredith remembers that meeting. The strategy for dealing with personality conflicts three galaxies away from any potential help. She and Sumner had dismissed Elizabeth's concerns.

The irony does not escape Meredith's notice.

In all likelihood, she'll just be reassigned. Possibly remove herself from fieldwork. Elizabeth will invite her to dinner, they'll drink some of the wine Elizabeth smuggled in with her, they'll bond and then Elizabeth will suggest it. She'll be regretful, but convincing. Sheppard will be no where in sight.

He's not one for awkward confrontations. He's been avoiding her for days. He won't be able to look her in the eye and throw her off his team.

No, asking Elizabeth to handle it is the best option. Best for them both. Elizabeth's good enough to make Meredith believe it's her own idea. She's halfway there already. As the senior scientist on this mission, the idea of her venturing into the field is ludicrous at best. Sam always said she didn't have a 'feel' for these things and Meredith's beginning to wonder if she might be right.

She doesn't belong in the field. She lives for her theories. She belongs with them, in a lab, with a laptop. She has no business running across alien plants, clutching a gun she can barely aim and praying she won't blow someone's head off by mistake.

It isn't as if they're short on replacement candidates. She's even weeded a few potentials from the masses. The little Czech, Zelenka, she needs in the lab. He has the natural aptitude that she lacks, but there are others. All of which, she's sure, would make a much better fit on Sheppard's team than she does.

Yes, it's the best possible outcome for all concerned. Not that it makes anything better. The guilt about her misstep hasn't gone anywhere. It's not even the slightest bit swayed by the pile of resumes on her desk.

This used to be something she was proud of, irrational as it might seem. She's saved herself the misery of a thousand slowly dying friendships with a few well-placed words. Easier. Safer. Almost like pulling off a band aid.

It hurts less. At least, it's supposed to. She can't understand why it isn't working this time.

#

"You're kind of a bitch, you know that, right?"

Surprised by the unexpected voice crackling her ear, Meredith jumps with a yelp. The reward for her reaction is a stinging smack against the back of her head.

Ouch.

The headset is taking some getting used to. It's bad enough it makes her ear sore, but the constant interruptions are maddening. If she were anyone else, it would be a minor miracle that she gets any work done at all.

When Sheppard is involved, of course, it's no minor miracle. No, in that case, even with her presence, it is a major one.

Meredith sits back, folding her legs as she glares balefully at the escaped stylus. She should just glue the damn thing to her hand -- "McKay?"

Sheppard's voice, this time, is almost hesitant. It's a complete switch around and it makes her head spin. It's the first thing he's said to her in three days, outside of noncommittal grunts in briefings, purely for Elizabeth's benefit. It's ridiculous how she reacts. She should be furious. She should be taking his head off. No one talks to her like that and gets away with it.

Yet her heart beats faster, her mouth goes dry, and her hand moves, hovering with indecision against the headset. It could be an emergency, her mind whirls with all the possibilities, but she knows that it's not.

She also knows it's not what she wants it to be. Meredith's been waiting for this and she has to give him credit. At least he didn't have Elizabeth do it.

Gathering up her dignity, clinging to it like a stuffed toy, Meredith responds, "I'm here, Major, and, to answer your question, yes, I am perfectly aware." She goes to her knees, finally clasping the stylus in her hand. "Thank you for the attempt at a reminder, however."

She's not prepared for the sound of her own voice. She sounds almost – hurt. Odd. It isn't as if he hasn't told her anything that she didn't already know. He might as well have told her the sky is blue. "Is there anything else we can clarify before we finish this?"

He sighs, the sound in her ear raising goose flesh and sending a shiver through her. This is the part she hates about these headsets. Well, one part. The complete lack of privacy is an irritation, but the odd sense of intimacy is another. She can almost feel his body's heat pressing against hers.

Her cheeks warm and she clutches the stylus tighter.

"Look, McKay, I -- " he hesitates. "I didn't mean – that is, I didn't intend on -- "

"Please, Major," says Meredith, her nerves pushing a biting edge into her voice. She doesn't mean to sound so derisive, but she clings to it anyway. It's familiar and safe and, cowardice or not, she needs it right now. "We both know that you did. It's fine. It's hardly as if it's some great revelation at any rate. I'm well aware of the effect I have on some. Now, as to the matter of my replacement, there are a number of possibilities. Some of them don't have much in the way of field experience, but then, let's be honest, I didn't either and -- "

"Hang on, what?" asks Sheppard, incredulous. "McKay, what the hell are you talking about?"

The surprise is so genuine that Meredith doesn't quite know what to say next. Instead, she's left stammering, "Well, I – I thought -- "

"Oh for fuck's sake, where are you?" Sheppard cuts her off, anger fueling his impatience. She doesn't need to see his face to know he's angry. The peculiar part of it all, though, is that he doesn't really seem angry at _her_.

Not that she can tell. As pedantic as it can be, she's never had much use for psychoanalysis. She's not interested in deciphering the psychological ins and outs of John Sheppard's mind. Not that anyone could. She's beginning to believe he could make Freud cry.

Meredith looks at her desk and the paperwork scattered across it without really seeing any of it. Not the faces in the pictures or the names on the pages. "My office, actual office, not the lab, I needed to -- " She needed to fix this and it's still a wonder that she cares.

"Stay there. I'm coming to you."

He sounds so determined that hope flares. Maybe, just maybe, she was actually wrong. She's never wanted to be before.

Well, just that one time, but Teal'c's life was hanging in the balance then. It's hardly the same thing really. This is just a job and one, all things considered, she probably shouldn't be doing anyway. She's far too important to be wasted in the field, but --

But she can't imagine any other life and isn't that the biggest surprise of it all?

"Major, I -- "

"Don't. _Move_," insists Sheppard. "Don't argue with me. Just sit there and wait. Don't go playing with any Ancient shit either. I swear to God, McKay, I show up there and something's glowing -- "

"I won't." Meredith sits. "I promise."


End file.
